Left 2 Die
by StrangerXIII
Summary: When a small colony of survivor’s receive a distress signal from Bill, Louis, Zoey and Francis, they send two outcasts to find them. Trapped in a destroyed world and hunted by enemies that are constantly changing, will they be left to die?


I don't own Left 4 Dead, I don't own anything. Please enjoy and review, etc.

I

"I'm down!"

Bills roar rolled across the rooftop. The thick smoke lingering from his recent kill blurred his vision and filled his lungs, the results of Bill's fast aim when the vile monstrosity wrapped its vile tongue around him. He drew his pistol and snapped his sight behind him, seeing what had downed him. A semi-lucky infected caught Bill in his left calf, opening his old war wound and sending him falling to the concrete. It was lucky as Bill had been blinded by the smoke, and unlucky as it had to crawl to reach him, its bloody stumps which were once legs (recently separated from their better halves by Bill's last shotgun round) creating a thick red tar in its wake. It was inches away, its rotting teeth bared and snapping in his direction, just inches away and growing closer. Bill aimed his pistol, took a drag from his cigarette, smirked, and fired. The round tore through brain and bone, leaving the back of its head a gore filled crater.

His small area of the roof grew silent and he allowed himself a sigh of relief. His reprieve was short. The sounds of infected grew closer. Beating footsteps, gurgled moans and snapping jaws. He looked to the edge of the rooftop and saw them, a dozen grey skinned hands clutching to the edge. The number of hands multiplied, bringing with them the rotting heads and torsos of the undead.

The first were up, and he opened fire. One down. Two. Three. Now they were rising too fast, swarming at him. He could feel it. That feeling that this was the end. That he was going to die, and he had no choice.

The feeling was shattered by the roar of a shotgun from behind him. The roar, the flash of light, the spraying blood and dismembered limbs as the shells hit their mark. Three infected fell from the blast. The next shot took two. The next, three more.

"Come on, get up!"

A gloved hand wrapped around the back of his jacket and he was hauled to his feet by a muscular tattooed arm. Blood rushed to his head and his vision shifted to a throbbing purple. He shook it off and looked at the face of his saviour.

"That wasn't necessary" he snarled as he peeled the remains of the smokers tongue from his chest. "But, thanks"

Francis merely nodded; knowing that few had ever earned the old mans thanks. Bill put his arm around Francis' shoulders, causing the giant of a man to bend down slightly to compensate for the old mans height. They turned and staggered in the direction of the safe room. Bill took a glance behind them at the infected rising from the abyss of the roof edge. They didn't relent. The hands were still multiplying and more rotting figures were protruding from the edge of the roof. Soon several were up and giving chase to the biker and soldier, followed soon by their ilk.

The slow pace of the two survivors allowed the pursuing mass to gain ground. They each took quick glances behind them, each time attempting to move faster in a hope reach safety. They turned past a large air conditioning unit and laid eyes upon their sanctuary. The red metal door of the safe room, just twenty feet away. Their renewed hope gave them a burst of speed, but not fast enough to reach the door before the swarm reached them. They were fast approaching, they would be upon them in seconds, tearing their flesh from their bones and gorging upon their living bodies. The survivors were ten feet away when the head of the swarm turned the corner. The first was bounding toward them. The two gained little ground before the first infected was but two feet from them. It swiped its clawed hand at Francis' neck, the talon fingernails sharp and sure to slice into his skin. It was about to connect. Francis could feel it coming. Bill's risked glance behind him would allow him to see his friend be caught.

The crack of a gunshot echoed between the rooftops numerous protrusions. The infected hand detached from its owner, blood leaking from its broken veins. Francis glanced to the roof of the safe room to see the source of the gunshot. The tall, thin silhouette of Louis stood at the edge, the glass scope of the hunting rifle in his hands reflecting the moonlight.

Bill and Francis reached the red door, Francis' hefty frame barging it open. He dropped Bill to the ground and turned to push the door closed. It was almost in place when the wave of bodies hurled their combined weight against it. Francis tensed himself and pushed back. It was no use, the sheer force from the other side of the door was too much for the lone man and the door swung open, sending him sliding across the floor.

Bill and Francis could just lay there; about to be mauled by the snarling corpses when the high pitched beating of an Uzi submachine gun filled the room and sprays of bullets penetrated the fragile infected.

The force of the shots was enough to push the wave back momentarily, but long enough for the young gun wielder to take out several of them, kick the door closed, and bar it. She held her head high, the magazine from the Uzi falling from the gun to the floor and being sharply replaced by a spare tucked into her waistband.

"Thanks" Francis and Bill groaned in unison, Francis helping Bill to his feet having already risen to his own. The three made their way to the roof and joined with Louis, who greeted them with a faint smile and dropped his rifle, having spent the last round. A soft thumping could be heard in the air. It was not the sound of footsteps or claws, but the sound of the air itself being beaten. The sound of something rapidly tearing through the air. The sound of a helicopter approaching.

"I hate helicopters"

Zoey and Louis ignored Francis' groans and begun waving their arms in the air and generally did their best to signal the approaching chopper. The chopper was still far off and was likely to pass by unless given a clear signal. Francis ran down stairs into the safe room and returned moments later, a Molotov and lighter in hand. He lit the cloth protruding from the top and threw it over the edge of the safe room roof, into the gathering of infected outside the door.

Their tattered clothes set alight and the flame spread amongst them. They shrieked and tried desperately in vain to extinguish themselves with their hands, but to no avail. They spread about, running in various directions, blinded by the fire burning away at their skin. Several of the walking infernos toppled over the edge of the rooftop, a flaming signal falling fifty floors to the ground. The helicopter changed course, now heading to the hospital roof.

Two-hundred feet away a partially destroyed helicopter pad lay bare. They knew it was the only safe area for the chopper to extract them. Reaching it wasn't a simple task. Between the safe room and the pad there was a labyrinth of ventilation systems, stairwell entrances and other obstructions. Without a word they knew what they would have to do. They gathered all the supplies they could had left. One shotgun, one Uzi, two pistols, twelve shotgun shells, two Uzi magazines, two pistol clips and a bottle of pills. They were going to make a run for it.

They grouped at the door. The coast was clear and the flaming corpses were slowly going out. Bill was draped across Louis' shoulders (making a more suitable height ratio then before), baring pistols in their spare hands. Zoey kept her Uzi and tucked her only spare clip into her waistband. Francis loaded eight shells into his shotgun and pocketed his spare four (one each, in case something goes wrong). They prepared themselves, and Francis pulled the bar from the door.

Except the bar wouldn't budge. Zoey had firmly stuck it in place, which is a good thing when trying to survive, but not when trying to escape. He kept pulling, knowing that as the strongest of the survivors it was no use allowing someone else to try. Jumping from the safe room roof was also not an option, as the already wounded Bill would injure himself further, and slow them down more. He continued his efforts. Suddenly, a small bit of leeway. He gave one final wrench with all his strength. All his strength was too much. The heavy bar slipped from its holdings, flinging the unprepared biker backwards, losing his grip. It fell to the concrete, the heavy but hollow iron object crashing to the floor, the roar of metal on concrete echoing throughout the room, and out of the now open door.

The response was a snarl.

"Time to move"

The survivors bolted out of the door. Zoey took point, her Uzi shredding any infected that approached from the front, Bill and Louis covered the groups flanks, aiming a pistol to their respective side and fending off anything that might reach their team-mates and Francis covering the rear, each shot causing several infected to explode in a red burst.

They ducked and dived through the maze of obstacles, successfully keeping their attackers at bay until they passed a small gap between a wall and a stairwell, leaving Louis' flank unprotected. It was all the hunter needed. It pounced at him, knocking Bill to the floor and pinning Louis to the ground. It raised its claw ready to strike its killing blow when a combat boot connected with its temple. Bill's quick kick staggered the hunter and sent it crashing into a wall head first. Before it could regain its senses, Zoey pummelled the last few rounds of her magazine into it. The hunter dropped and dark blood spilled from it, turning its blue hood red. Francis pulled the two to their feet and Zoey regained point. She rounded the last corner while pushing the release button for her gun's magazine, expecting to see the home stretch to the helipad ramp. That wasn't just what she saw. She stopped in her tracks as the magazine slid from the receiver, as she saw the hunched figure of a witch but five feet away from her. Zoey's eyes widened in terror as the magazine continued to fall. She hadn't startled it. It was unaware of her presence, wrapped in its own sobbing self-loathing. Until the magazine hit the floor. The hollow clip made a metallic ring as it connected with the ground, and the witch's attention shifted. It charged at Zoey, shrieking like an undead harpy. She could do nothing but watch as the foot long talons jutting from its fingers swiped at her. Before the witch had even reached her, Francis appeared from behind the corner, shotgun aimed and finger on the trigger. As soon as the opening of the gun barrel connected with the witch's forehead, he fired. The full force of the shot tore through its head, effectively obliterating it from existence.

Francis smirked and looked at Zoey's dazed expression. She returned the look, and gave him a smile. He returned it as a low but loud roar emerged from behind them, followed by the sound of concrete bursting into pieces. A small piece connected with Francis' shoulder, sending him spiralling into a wall.

"Tank!"

All attention turned to the hulking mass at the opposite end of the rooftop, charging toward them, scattering the obstructions the survivors had traversed with ease.

"Run or shoot?!" Louis yelled, "Run or shoot?!"

"Both!"

The survivors continued their run, guns aimed behind them firing on the approaching behemoth. They were climbing the access ramp when Louis heard a familiar gurgling groan. Green vomit rained down upon them as Louis snapped his attention, and his aim, at the obese boomer, the organic sacks hanging from its skin flapping limply but pulsing as they refilled. He fired a single shot which burst the bulging sack on its neck, causing a chain reaction within the creature resulting in it exploding.

They wiped the bile from their eyes as the snarl of the alerted infected echoed from the bowels of the building. The chopper was approaching. It was seconds away. Their hearts pounded and the adrenaline rushed through them. The tank was still charging at them, the stairwell doors burst open and dozens of infected spilled out. The tank was gaining ground, crushing any drones that got in its path. It was but fifty feet away when the helicopter reached the helipad. It hovered two feet from the ground, enough for the survivors to climb aboard. Bill motioned Zoey to go first, but she and Louis wordlessly disagreed and helped the wounded old man up first, ensuring he was safe inside.

It was thirty feet away.

Francis held them off, his last shotgun shell tearing through six infected which had bottlenecked on the access ramp. Zoey climbed up next, spending the last remnants of the Uzi clip on the approaching horde.

Twenty feet.

Louis tapped Francis' shoulder to notify him to get in, but the biker ushered him toward the chopper, beckoning him to climb aboard first. Louis nodded and did so as Francis swung the shotgun like a club, the butt connecting and cracking skulls.

It was ten feet away.

He took one last swing then jumped aboard. The tanks hands grasping for his flailing legs as the chopper took off. It roared with rage and stripped a slab of the helipad from the ground. It flung it at the chopper. The slab of stone hurtled at the machine, but the pilot saw it coming and quickly swerved to the side. The stone missed but the sudden movement of the chopper caused Francis to lose his grip and fall from the side. He clutched at the metal poles supporting the seats in the chopper, gripping as much as he could to hold his heavy bulk. The green smoke and rasping cough of a smoker were coming from the roof. The hiss of its tongue emerging from its mouth and shooting toward the dangling biker. Bill flung himself to the floor of the chopper and grabbed one of Francis' arms.

"Come on, up ya go!"

Bill heaved the biker up, until his torso was over the edge of the floor, the smoker's tongue missing Francis but wrapping around the chopper's skids. The smoker constricted the chopper's movement, dragging it back through the air to the roof. Louis rushed to Bill's side and grabbed Francis' other arm as Zoey grabbed one of the pistols and fired three shots. The first two missed and shattered the glass windows of the building below; the third caught the tongue and tore it in two. The helicopter sped out of harms way as the smokers tongue fell limp. Louis and Bill combined their strength and pulled Francis aboard as the sun began to rise on the horizon, filling the streets with light. The 4 took seats in the chopper and looked down at the rooftop, swarming with hundreds rotting infected, some leaping over the edge in a futile attempt to catch the chopper. The 4 had escaped impossible odds, survived where they would have surely died, but now they were being taken to safety. They breathed in relief as the chopper flew toward then sun.

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The children cheered and laughed and the soldiers in the room smiled at the innocence and happiness.

"Bed time"

The cheering and laughter subsided into moans of disappointment at the soldier's words. "Bed time, come on". More moans as the children slumped their backs and frowned.

"Come on. If you want to be like the four, you need your sleep" said another soldier and turned to the group of young boys sat on the floor of the lamp lit room. "If you want to be big and strong like Francis" He then turned his attention to the group of girls sat opposite "or pretty and smart like Zoey, you need lots of sleep. Go on!". The children moaned again but rose to their feet and wandered off in the direction of the junior dorm rooms, chatting enthusiastically about the newest tale of the 4.

Once the last of the children disappeared into the dorms, the five remaining soldiers focused their attention on the tall figure leaning in the doorway.

"Are the four real?" the figure said to the soldiers. He had been listening to the tale intensively, absorbing every piece of information.

"There were rumours that four everyday people had escaped and survived. They serve as a symbol of hope" the storyteller replied, a tone of desperation in her voice as if she wished the stories she told to be true. There was a long pause before the figure spoke up again.

"Is it really like that out there?"

"Everything in it is out there. Hunters, witches, tanks, their all out there." She sighed "but the stories are for kids and moral. In truth, It's worse out there". Another soldier stepped forward and addressed the figure.

"We've answered enough of your questions, stranger. Now answer mine." snarled another soldier "What happened to you?"


End file.
